


Rehabilitation

by Cyphomandra



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: First Time, Get Together, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5936068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyphomandra/pseuds/Cyphomandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn doesn't like feeling useless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rehabilitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> Thanks to my efficient and indispensable betas, Rhuia and china_shop.

“Hey - it’s you!” said Finn in delighted surprise, as the person who’d knocked on his half-open door leaned in far enough to be identifiable. He put down the stylus he’d been using to annotate the Republic’s files on the First Order, and waved Poe in.

“Well, your short-term memory seems fine,” Poe said, retrieving a small stool from the side wall and trundling it over to the side of Finn’s hospital bed. BB-8 rolled in after him and chirped a greeting. “Wait, let me check. Which you do you think I am?”

His tone was light, but his dark eyes looked a little concerned. Finn couldn’t entirely blame him. Poe had been there when Finn woke up five days ago, but he’d been pretty out of it then. He had vague memories of Poe holding him down and telling him everything was going to be okay. Not exactly the impression he'd been hoping to create

“You you,” Finn said. As if he'd forget. “Poe. How’ve you been?”

Poe sat down and hitched one foot up on the opposite thigh. “That’s supposed to be my line,” he said. “Fine. Busy. No news yet from Rey. Now you.”

Poe didn’t look all that fine, up close. There were dark smudges under his eyes,his skin had a sallow undertone, and he needed a shave. When Finn had tried to contact Poe earlier, he’d been told he was out on assignment and would come by when he returned. It looked as if he'd been behind the controls of his X-Wing the whole time. 

At least he was here now. Finn had missed him. 

Poe was still waiting, lazy amusement on his face.

“I took two steps this morning,” Finn said. Poe gave him a high five.

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, which means no more bacta,” Finn agreed. “My spine’s all healed. Apparently it doesn’t work for light saber wounds, though, so my arm’s still useless for a few more weeks.”

“If only you had a spare one,” Poe said. 

Finn grimaced. “I’m terrible left-handed. Whoever reads these notes I’m making is going to think they’re in code.”

“Why don’t you type them?” Poe asked. He reached over to grab the stylus and stood it up on one finger.

“I need the practice,” Finn said.

“Stubborn.”

“That, and my rehab tech makes my old sergeant look like a gentle stroll in a Zeltrossian garden. Is that what you guys do with the candidates who fail their Interrogation Division applications due to a lack of empathy?”

Poe didn’t laugh, and the humour went from his face. He put down the stylus, aligning it neatly with Finn’s notes. 

“We don’t have an Interrogation Division,” Poe said, and looked up again. “Finn, you do know we’re not going to tie you up somewhere painful and start asking questions about the First Order, right?”

Finn was - half sure. He trusted Poe and Rey, rather than a group ideal. Groups had a way of ending up with compromises.

More than that, Poe’s question hit a raw spot that had occupied much of his thoughts since waking up. What was he going to do now? What use was a rogue Stormtrooper without a troop?

“I do,” Finn said, “But- “

Poe contemplated Finn. Finn tried not to twitch, well aware that he had the sort of giveaway face that stormtrooper helmets were designed for.

“There’s obviously something,” Poe said. “What is it? Complex navigational problem? Simple navigational problem? Complex personal problem?”

“People come to you with their personal problems?” asked Finn, diverted. He wished he was asking about a personal problem. But no - first, make himself useful, then make a move.

Poe looked affronted. BB-8 whistled helpfully.

“That relationship was doomed from the start,” Poe said to the droid. BB-8 rocked back and forth in an “if-you-say-so” fashion.

“Anyway.” He turned back to Finn. “Shoot.”

Finn gathered his thoughts, which had wandered in a very unhelpful direction. “I know you guys are really busy,” he said. “And I can’t do much yet. But. I know the First Order, and they know me.”

He looked expectantly at Poe.

Poe looked puzzled. “You’re going through our files already- ”

“It’s not what I know about them,” Finn said, breaking in. “They know me. They know I escaped. If Phasma’s alive, she’s told them everything - about Jakku, and Starkiller Base.”

Disapproval was starting to replace the puzzled expression, so maybe Poe had figured out where Finn was going with this. He plunged ahead anyway.

“Their spies will be here - nothing personal, they get in everywhere - but right now they think I've done all my damage. I'm sure they'd still kill me if they got the chance. But if we make things a bit more tempting - say I have something, a piece of the sub-hyperspace tech or a lead on Snoke's hideout - then they'd actively come after me.”

“You want us to use you as bait,” Poe said flatly.

“I’m not doing anything else.”

Poe pushed a hand back through his hair. “You nearly died,” he said. It was heavy with an emotion that Finn couldn’t read and he paused, feeling as if he should apologise but unsure why.

Poe’s wrist comm beeped twice in the silence.

“Hold on,” said Poe, pulling his arm up. “Dameron.”

A voice told him that it knew he was off-shift but two Imperial corvettes were harrassing the refugee ships off Xylren, and could he report to flight deck alpha soonest. Poe muttered an acknowledgment and shut off the comm. He looked over at Finn.

Finn stared back. He felt like a puppy trying to get its owner to take it out for a walk.

“You want to do this,” Poe said.

“Yeah.”

“All right.” Poe pushed himself up off the stool. “Yeah, we have spies. I haven't heard anything official, but I've spent the last few days trying to patch up some situations that could only happen if the First Order has a very good idea of when and where we're doing things. I’ll talk to some people. Don’t say anything to anyone else. And don’t have a relapse.”

Reasonable requests. Finn nodded to both of them.

Poe paused in the doorway.

“Snoke's hideout?” he asked, his voice back to its usual light tone.

“I sent a memo!” Finn said. “You Rebels are so bad with paperwork.”

Poe grinned and left.

***

Two days later Finn’s left-handed writing was improving, and he was now allowed to walk to the toilet. His rehab tech Kara appeared unimpressed but had given him a new set of shoulder stretches, and he was testing just how far he could push the restrictions of the healing tissue when BB-8 rolled into the centre of the room, extruded a small antenna and started making loud staticky noises.

“Hello to you too,” Finn said. BB-8's lights flickered in a preoccupied fashion. Finn rotated his shoulder a fraction further, felt something start to give and hurriedly relaxed it.

Poe came into the room, followed by – Finn stopped rubbing his shoulder and straightened up. Years of training meant he had to vigorously repress the urge to salute. He settled for jerking his chin up and locking his jaw, but he still felt guilty.

General Organa contemplated him. She was in fatigues, her brown hair pinned up in loose braids. She had a burning intensity about her that made Finn hold his position even when it became uncomfortable.

“Trooper Finn,” she said finally. “We are all very grateful to you for your assistance. There will be no charge for our medical care and a considerable payment has been made to the account details that you supplied to us.”

Poe, who’d faded politely into the background when the General entered, pointed at the General, cupped his ear, and gestured overhead warningly. BB-8 continued to emit a staticky hum.

He was not the intended audience for this conversation.

“I do,” Finn said, “possess some additional information. Significantly valuable information.” He tried to look suitably mercenary. He wished he wasn’t wearing hospital pyjamas. 

“Indeed.” She looked unimpressed. 

“I couldn’t just give it away,” Finn added.

“Goods or currency?” the General enquired.

“It would depend on the goods,” Finn said, getting into his role. “I am in need of safe passage to the Outer Rim, which I feel would be better for my health. A lucrative cargo would help. You can never be too sure of who to trust out there.”

General Organa regarded him steadily. “I see we understand each other,” she said, and one eyelid flickered in a wink.

They exchanged a few more comments, with Poe's hand gestures as prompts - Finn was, apparently, familiar with at least two of the Imperial Leader's secret bases. He was not, however, to be drawn on specifics. The General radiated equal disgust at his lack of loyalty and desire to exploit it, and arranged another meeting in three days’ time on a decommissioned flight deck at the back of the base, with a transport shuttle waiting. Finn presumed the location was even now - if not already - being very tightly monitored.

The General left without saying goodbye. BB-8 retracted his antenna and rolled towards the door. Poe put a finger to his lips and then undid his wrist comm as he walked over, soft-footed, dropped the comm on Finn's bed and followed the little droid out.

Finn waited about five minutes before impatience got the better of him and he grabbed the comm. It had an open text window waiting.

IS ROOM BUGGED? he typed, and stared at it expectantly.

The answer was quick.

WASN’T BEFORE. BB-8 TIED HOSPITAL AUDIO INTO GENERAL COMMS. PERMANENT LINK. SAME PEOPLE LISTENING AS KNEW ABOUT XYLREN ETC. TOLD THEM LOOKING FOR FEEDBACK ON YOUR OFFER.

The trap was set. Too late to go back now.

His superior officers had told him off more than once for showing initiative. In a way, this whole situation was all too familiar.

WHAT NOW? Finn typed.

INCREASED SECURITY IN INFIRMARY, STAFF ONLY ACCESS. SHOULD BE SAFE UNTIL MEETING BUT BE CAREFUL. LEFT SOMETHING FOR YOU.

Finn eyed the wall where Poe had been standing. Nothing obvious - his eye caught the stool Poe had sat on his last visit, pushed further back behind the washstand as if to keep it out of sight.

DON'T TELL ME.

He slid off the bed, right arm braced against his side, and took the handful of steps required. Bending down was difficult and his fingers scrabbled at the underside before finding something wrapped in thin cloth and held on by a stick patch. His legs were starting to shake by the time he’d got it loose, and rather than try for the bed and fail he sank to the ground, half sitting and half sprawling.

A Kob sonic pistol - not Republic standard issue, Finn noted with the intent to tease Poe about it later - and a handful of sheets of flimplast. Finn put the sheets aside, checked the pistol’s charger, flicked through the settings and sighted it left-handed. It had a wide field option for crowd control that would allow for considerable wobble on behalf of the wielder. He switched on the safety and shoved the pistol into the waistband of his hospital pants.

The flimplast sheets were plans of the meeting location with sightlines and back-up marked and a briefing. All going well, he would leave the infirmary at 0900 in a shielded power chair with four droids as escort. Possible places of intersection along the way were marked with x's, with the handwritten note, "Keep your head down Finn, I mean it - PD." He grinned. And then - huh.

He wouldn’t actually attend the meeting. There would be a swap in a unmonitored corridor for an unspecified resistance agent, who would then proceed to the meeting on Finn's behalf. stayed safely tucked away in a secure bolthole in the access corridors of the base.

It made sense. It kept him out of the way in case the trick didn’t work, and it meant he didn’t have to be ready to fight when he could barely walk. Bait and switch.

He still felt hurt.

The comm buzzed.

FINN?

ORDERS RECEIVED & UNDERSTOOD, Finn keyed back. He looked through the flimplast again, making sure he had everything memorised. Meeting schematics included.

The comm buzzed again. YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING BY YOURSELF, it said.

He knew that. He just hated feeling useless. Finn tossed the com onto to his bed before he said something he’d regret later.

When he was sure he had everything memorised Finn folded down the corners to trigger the self-destruct mechanism and watched the thin material shrink and warp itself into tiny balls of unreadable plastic.

He didn’t feel like getting up just yet. He tossed a ball into the washstand. The second ball he tried throwing with his right hand, just to see, and it fell short. The third one missed as well, but he got the last one in. 

“Goal!” he said, and shifted forward to reach for the two he’d missed.

“Ten points if you can stand as well,” a voice said from the doorway. Kara, his rehab tech. This counted as positive comedy from her.

“Fifteen if I stand on one leg?” he said. 

“All points lost in the event of further trauma."

“It’s a deal,” Finn said, and hitched his injured arm up against his side as he pushed himself to his feet. 

Kara clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Like this,” she said, and stepped over to help him, her arms efficiently pushing his remaining limbs into more functional positions. “And push.”

He did, and found himself standing with remarkably little pain. “Ha!” he said, and did a very careful hip-wriggle of triumph.

The sonic pistol dislodged itself from his pants and hit the floor with a clunk. Kara scooped it up.

“What -" she was silent, looking at it.

“You’re safe,” Finn said. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t hurt me!” Kara said. Her voice sounded absolutely panicked, but her face was expressionless. 

“I-“ Finn said, confused. She thumbed off the safety and shot him.

He’d been hit with sonics before, in training, and they always sucked. It felt like all the nerves along the front half of his body went off, jangling and painful, and his gut wrenched itself into a tight knot. He was on his knees and gasping before his mind could catch up.

“No!” Kara cried. She pushed over a side table with a crash. “Stay back! I’m unarmed.”

She fired twice more, once into the door controls and once into the overhead communication hub. Multiple alarms went off.

Finn tried to focus on anything that would cut past the pain. Kara was setting him up. While from the point of view of his imminent death, it hardly mattered whether she was acting on a justified grudge against Stormtroopers or was a First Order agent bent on eradicating a possible leak, it mattered a lot to the Republic. And Poe.

He had to do something. Kara spun the bed around to block the door and walked over, pushing the nose of the sonic pistol into the back of Finn’s neck and forcing his head down. Finn shut his eyes.

“Are you my contact?” he said.

The pistol didn’t move. Finn spent half a second regretting his choice. Then Kara answered.

“What?”

“My contact,” Finn said. He could hear someone banging on the door. “I’ve arranged everything. I can give you the General.”

The pressure on the back of his neck lifted just a fraction.

“You could have said something before making me do all those stretches,” he added.

“You - “ Kara lifted the pistol away and yanked his head back by the hair. Not the best angle, unless he wanted a great view of her nostrils, but Finn thought she looked flustered.

“You - You had a flashback,” she said. She was visibly regaining control, her stoney facade returning. “Battle trauma. I set it off by screaming. You tried to kill yourself and I grabbed the pistol.”

Finn nodded. There was a flash from the door and a sharp acrid smell as someone cut through the metal with a laser. Kara flung herself to the floor next to Finn and wrapped her arms round him.

“You’re okay,” she said reassuringly. “I’ve got you. You’re okay now.” She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. “One chance.”

Finn shut his eyes and tried not to recoil from her touch.

The guards bought the story and - understandably if unhelpfully - confiscated the pistol. Kara clung to him the whole time they were talking and then helped him into a chair and escorted him to a more secure room with fewer holes in the walls. 

He couldn't get the commlink without Kara noticing. Leaving it behind was painful.

Still. At least he’d found the spy. He just had to get hold of Poe.

Something worried at him, though, and while one of the medidroids was checking his vital signs, injecting him with pain meds, and poking all of his bruises to see if they still hurt, he worked out what it was.

Kara was staff, so infirmary access wouldn't have been a problem. But from what Poe had said, the suspected leak was in the General's staff. Not to mention how quickly she'd shown up after Finn had laid out his offer to the Resistance.

What made sense was if someone else had contacted Kara after that audio, and sent her to check on him and, Finn supposed, dispose of him appropriately. She'd taken advantage of the pistol - Finn wondered morbidly what her original plan had been.

She was also more likely to give him a chance if she had someone more senior to answer to in the event of getting rid of someone who then turned out to be important.

He looked sideways at her. She was currently in a chair at his bedside, one hand resting lightly on his leg.

The droid enquired if he had any other problems.

“No,” Finn said. “Wait. Yes. Um.”

The medidroid looked expectant.

“It hurts when I pee,” Finn said. “Could you take a look? Um. Do you mind -“ he said to Kara.

She studied him, then the waiting medidroid. “Of course not,” she said, finally, and unfolded herself from the chair, leaving the room.

As the door shut behind her Finn turned to the medidroid. “I need you to comm someone for me. Poe Dameron. Can you do that?”

“Please remove your trousers,” the medidroid said.

“What- can you call him? It’s urgent!”

“Remove your trousers,” the medidroid repeated. “I need to examine your penis.”

Being a double-agent should definitely have been more glamorous than this. “Okay,” he said, yanking his pants’ tie free with his good hand and shoving everything down. “See? I think it’s better already. Can you call him?”

The medidroid performed a leisurely examination. “Everything seems to be in order,” it said finally. It handed him a small plastic container. “Fill this with urine.”

“Right now?” Finn said. 

“Whenever is convenient,” it said. Finn was about to suggest exactly what the droid could do with the container when it went on, “I have enquired about Poe Dameron through internal communication channels. He is out on patrol and expected back at 0200 hours. I have left a message to be delivered on his return informing him that you have attempted suicide unsuccessfully and are requesting a visit.”

Finn put the container down on the bed. The clock on the wall said 2234. “Great,” he said finally. "That won't upset him at all. Thanks.”

“Leave the sample on the counter and press the call button when you have obtained the sample,” the medidroid said, and rolled out. Kara was back instantly, picking up his good hand and pressing it between hers almost painfully.

“You look tired,” she said. “Try and rest. I’ll watch over you.” She let go of Finn’s hand and picked up the room controller, dimming the lights and activating low, restful music. She let her head fall sideways to rest on Finn’s shoulder.

“Trooper FN-2187,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Report.”

Finn swallowed. In an equally quiet voice, he outlined the plan for the meeting with General Organa, the timing, the locations of the hidden guards - everything he’d memorised.

“How does that give us Organa?” Kara hissed, when he’d finished. "You lied."

“There's a shuttle right there at the meeting,” Finn pointed out. 

“You’re not a pilot.”

“No,” Finn said, carefully. “But I have one who will help me. He’ll be hidden on board. We can jump to hyperspace with the General and have her safely tucked away before the Rebels even know she’s gone. He’ll be here later to check up on me.”

Kara's lip twisted. “If it were up to me - " she said, and cut herself off. “You’d do anything to stay alive.” She pushed herself up off the bed. “Just popping out to freshen up,” she said out loud. She had her commlink out of her pocket before the door closed behind her.

Updating whoever her boss was. Finn shifted cautiously, and felt the sonic aftershock bite even through the pain relief. No chance of getting away, even if she’d moved further than the far side of the door, and the sweep of the room the droids had done as a suicide check meant there was little that could be used as a weapon. He doubted Kara would be obliging enough to let him smother her one-handed with a pillow.

The minutes crawled past. Kara came back in and took up her position again

“Go to sleep,” she said. She opened one hand at his side to show him the familiar profile of a B22 Imperial blaster. "In case your contact doesn't confirm your story," she whispered. "A repeat suicide attempt will be even more believable if you've accidentally killed a friend first."

Finn closed his eyes. He felt wired and exhausted simultaneously, wiped out from constructing a very delicate chain of fabrications and half-truths that would hopefully keep him alive and the Republic safe. 

Telling Kara that Poe was coming could have been a very bad mistake. Finn hadn't wanted her to shoot him on sight, but now Poe was going to come back from another one of his ridiculously exhausting missions, get the medidroid's break-it-to-him-gently news, and walk headlong into the very same trap Finn was trying to get out of. Kara would probably enjoy setting up another tragic accident. He needed to think of something. 

His mind worrying at a thousand unworkable plans, he fell asleep - and woke with a jolt, terrified that Poe had arrived and been shot already. Kara opened her eyes and regarded him steadily.

"Bad dream," Finn said. 0025.

He shut his eyes again. He dug his fingers into his thigh and tried to focus. Lists. Numbers. Names…

_Finn. Can I call you Finn?_

0113\. 0148. 0200. 0208.

It would take Poe time to dock and check his X-Wing, even assuming he came back on time. No reason to think anything had gone wrong with the patrol.

0223\. 0239.

The door sliding open. Hurried footsteps. “Finn?” Poe said, half-falling into the room, still in his flightsuit. “What happened?” He stopped suddenly, staring at the woman by Finn’s side.

He couldn’t see the drawn blaster aimed at him below the level of the bed.

“A bit of an overreaction,” Finn said. 

Poe looked beyond exhausted. Finn kept talking, his eyes on Poe's, not wanting to miss a second of reaction that might help.

“Battle flashback. I didn’t know what I was doing. Anyway. This is Kara, my rehab tech. She talked me down. I wouldn’t be here without her,” he said, and willed Poe to understand. “I thought she was just a great rehab tech - good at paperwork, like they all are - “ he couldn’t emphasise it any more - “but also excellent in a crisis.”

“You Rebels are so bad at paperwork”, he’d said to Poe two days earlier. Work it out, he said silently, work out she’s First Order and on a hair-trigger and I’ve told her everything to keep it all safe, because she’s not the only one listening.

Poe grinned. “Great,” he said. “You do have a knack for falling on your feet.” He yawned. “And I need to be off mine. So, if you’re not dead - ” he was backing towards the door.

“Wait,” Kara said. Poe stopped short. Finn froze.

“Finn said you’d offered to take him and a friend flying,” Kara said. “Do you think you should go ahead, after all this?”

There were any number of wrong answers to that question. Finn shifted slightly, trying to see if he could grab for his pillow, but Kara tilted the blaster against him in warning.

Poe shrugged. “Personally I think a quick getaway is very restorative,” he said. “If he’s still up for it, I’m in.”

Whatever Kara said in response, Finn didn’t hear it over the rushing of blood in his ears and the sudden relief.

Poe left. Kara stowed her blaster. “You also have a knack for finding disloyalty,” she whispered venemously.

“Like you said. Just doing what it takes to stay alive,” Finn answered. 

He shut his eyes. Sleep crept over him gradually, not so suddenly that he didn’t hear Kara shifting away to tap on her comlink, but enough that he had no awareness of her return. Then a deepening unconsciousness, and then nothing.

***

Finn woke up with a headache and a sweet chemical smell lingering in his nostrils. Sleep gas, a part of his brain informed him, and then more of him woke up and he sat bolt upright, pulling a number of monitoring leads free. The pain that resulted from his sudden movement completed the waking up process.

“It’s okay,” Poe said. Finn blinked. Poe was sitting next to him and - no Kara. He was in his old room, with all the furnishings restored to their original position and some fresh patches on the walls. BB-8 beeped at him from the floor.

Finn looked back at Poe. 

“It’s definitely you,” he said. 

Poe’s lips quirked up in a grin. “Definitely. Kara and her contact are both safely locked up, thanks to you. We got them red-handed after your performance. I'm not senior enough to tell you who she was reporting to, but the General was very surprised and very grateful."

Finn could hardly believe it had all actually worked. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said, and meant it. He'd never had someone to improvise with before. It had been incredibly tense, waiting for Poe to answer Kara, but he'd never thought he was trusting the wrong person.

Poe shrugged. "Some might argue that I got you into just as much trouble as out of it. I did leave you the pistol. The General wasn't wild when that came out." 

"Without the pistol she probably would have just switched my meds or faked a heart attack," Finn answered. He was annoyed on Poe's behalf. "Did you point that out?"

Poe grinned lazily. "I don't tend to argue with the General when she's listing my many flaws," he said, and picked something up from his lap, holding it out. "Here. Before you get distracted again."

A commlink. Finn reached out to pick it up. Poe grabbed his wrist, his grip warm and firm, and snapped the commlink on.

“Don’t leave it behind next time,” Poe said, still holding his wrist. “I do actually prefer straightforward communication.”

“You knew what I meant,” Finn said. Poe understood him, then - and, he knew, now as well.

His right hand was still useless. He twisted his left around to grip Poe's wrist in response, feeling the muscle tense under his fingers, and then Poe slid his own hand back so they were holding hands. "Um," Finn said.

"BB-8 has deactivated the audio pick-ups," Poe said. He was biting his lower lip as if to stop himself from saying something. Or laughing. He had, Finn noted distractedly, managed to shave since Finn had last seen him. Not that that made any difference to his plans.

"Finally," Finn said, and pulled him in for a kiss. Poe's lips were surprisingly soft, his mouth tasted of mint, and he obviously had no objection to the kiss. Finn tugged him closer. This was definitely one of his better ideas. 

"Is this direct enough?" Finn said, pulling his mouth away with considerable reluctance.

"It'll do," Poe said. He had one knee up on the bed already. "Where can I touch you?" Poe asked, pulling his mouth away. "Your injuries - "

That was what pain relief was for. "Everywhere except the big bandage on my right shoulder," Finn said, and ignored the disbelieving glance he got in response. "Come on."

Poe clambered up onto the bed. "I can take things slowly," he said. 

"My penis has recently passed an extensive medical examination," Finn said. Poe choked. "Do your worst. Well. Not literally."

Poe started unfastening Finn's pyjama top. Finn got his good arm under Poe's shirt, and ran his palm along the smooth skin of his back, enjoying the way Poe's facial expressions changed with the pressure. He traced the curve of a rib lightly with his nails and felt a surge of lust at Poe's response.

"Wait - one second," Poe said. He sat back on his heels and pulled off his shirt. "Two seconds." He was looking over the side of the bed.

"This better not be important," Finn said.

Poe shot him a glance and then whistled something in Binary. BB-8 made a rude beeping noise and rolled slowly over towards the door. He beeped again as he left.

"I asked him to warn off the hospital staff for the next hour," Poe said. He finished unlacing his boots and yanked them, his pants and his underwear off in a tangled heap, tossing them over the side of the bed with a thump.

Naked, he removed the rest of Finn's clothes with less force but similar urgency, and rearranged them both so they were side-by-side, with Finn's bad shoulder uppermost and two pillows wedged behind for support.

"Does this work?" Poe murmured, bringing his mouth back to Finn's while his hand slid across Finn's chest, thumb rubbing across one nipple.

"Mm," Finn said, getting his hand back on Poe's skin again and beginning his own exploration, "And I hate to disappoint you, but I'm a week out of a coma. I'm not sure I'll last an hour."

Poe's hand began moving downwards, slowing teasingly as it neared its target.

"There's a sudden shortage of trained infirmary staff," Poe said, and kissed him again, nipping Finn's lower lip with his teeth. "Consider this a key part of your rehabilitation."

THE END


End file.
